


Prophesy and Fate: A Helen Of Sparta FanFic

by LeBrun007



Category: Dress Up! Time Princess (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:47:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeBrun007/pseuds/LeBrun007
Summary: Helen is placed at the center of an ancient rivalry and epic conflict. She finds herself at odds with both men and gods, the choices that she makes will last many lifetimes and affect the fate not only of ancient Troy and Sparta, but of all  humanity.
Relationships: Helen-Achilles, Helen-Paris
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

Prophecy and Fate A Helen of Sparta Fan Fic for Mobile Game Dress Up Time Princess/Dress Up World: Your Story  
disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, this is simply my imagining of what Helen's story might have been.  
Please note that many other fanfic authors and game players have wondered about the consequences of the "traveler" having to endure many traumatic lifetimes as different book characters and the concept of reincarnation is also common or popular amongst members of this fandom. I do not claim that these particular ideas are unique to my work alone, but I did not intentionally borrow or steal anyone else's story prompts. 

Part I: Sunrise beneath Mt. Parnon

Entering this story felt different. After all she had endured, she felt she had lived many lifetimes. She was no longer certain who she was, and each time she separated from the person whose body and life and memories she borrowed, she felt a certain panic…….she was always severed in the middle of a life. Gotham had been particularly traumatizing, and not knowing how to return to her original world after many months as Marie, more months as Gina, and then so long and violent a history as Gotham…….well returning to what had once been “her” life seemed frightening and desolate, devoid of any meaning. Compelled by her dire need and urgency to be shown what to do next, as well as the sincere desire for respite and solace, she had picked up a fairytale and placed it upon the lectern. However, it really hadn’t been the respite she anticipated nor deserved. Two melodramatic brothers made certain of that.  
Marie, Gina, Colvin, Signy……..she sat there remembering names of her past lives and she no longer remembered her own……Her hands trembled slightly as she stared at the light emitting from the lectern. Her hands frantically searched the shelves as books tumbled over. She did not even read the title before placing the next volume down, cover open, its pages and cover gilded as though it contained an epic for the generations. 

Had her mother known about the power of the lectern? How many lifetimes had she spent trapped behind the pages? How many loves won and lost? How many deaths endured? How many crises survived and overcome? She hesitated slightly as her eyes found the first line on the page and the glow surrounding the lectern intensified. How much courage and resolve belonged to her, and how much had she absorbed from the other persons lives she had lived? Lacking the courage to live her own, she entered another. 

This story immediately felt different. The air was fresh and clean. The earth was quiet. A warm breeze stirred and she should have felt peaceful but she immediately felt she was being watched…..She opened her eyes half expecting the endless tide of attendants in Marie’s court, but she was alone.  
She was on a flat half reclined bench, much like a chaise or a piece of parlor furniture rather than a bed. Thin sheets fluttered over an open balcony, there was no wall between her room and the outside balcony. The climate must be very temperate to leave it open so, and the place secure to leave it unprotected. Still uncertain of where and when she might be, she rose and the moment her feet hit the cool marble floor memories of another life started washing in. She sighed in relief as she strode toward the light spilling in from the little terrace adjoining her room. She inhaled deeply and knew who she was.  
Helen of Sparta.  
She felt a little shaken and she uncertain if it was again the jolt of entering a new body and a new reality, or if the cold, clammy sweat and anxious feelings belonged to Helen.  
She placed her hands upon the railing and looked down. It was early morning light and few people were stirring.  
Helen had been dreaming.  
Or rather, having a nightmare.  
One piece of Helen’s life that usually failed to gain mention in modern recounts was a surprise to her also-  
Helen had been abducted at the age of twelve by the king of Athens.  
Child of Zeus, the king had called her.  
She had never known any father other than the King of Sparta, Athens’ ancient rival.  
The king of Athens really believed she possessed the blood of the gods, and that if she became his wife, somehow power or divine favor would be bestowed upon him if she gave him an heir. At twelve years old she was terrified, and certainly not ready to be having children, especially not with a man who had plucked her from her family and her home. But the King of Athens knew that the King of Sparta would never give her over willingly.  
Fortunately, her brothers, or at least her half- brothers, had led a campaign to get her back. But her eldest brother, who should have been heir and King of Sparta was killed.  
No matter how Queen Leda tried to console her, Helen felt it was her fault.  
And now Cassandra, her aunt and the temple priestess, had prophesied that war would always follow Helen’s beauty.  
Helen couldn’t help feeling that she should have never been born if she was always to bring death and destruction to those for whom she cared most deeply. A pit rose in her stomach and lodged as a lump in her throat. She stared at Mount Parnon to the east, but felt perhaps that she should go to the banks of the Eurotas river and simply submerse herself……..  
“Helen, what are you doing?” A familiar voice and a warm hand rested on her shoulder.  
“I’m watching the sun come up, Achilles,” Helen answered hoarsely.  
“You are crying,” Achilles whisked away the stubborn tear that refused to fall. “Don’t let Cassandra’s prophecy spoil such a sunrise. I know how you feel.”  
“How could you?” She retorted, overwhelmed with the tidal force of Helen’s emotions, until she recalled that Achilles also was born of an immortal mother and a mortal father.  
“Why is it that they feel that a half divine son is an asset and a mighty warrior but a woman who is half divine is an object to be fought over?”  
Achilles clucked his tongue ruefully. “I might have chosen a different destiny, than fighting other people’s wars……,” he too looked away toward Mount Parnon. “That is, until I was assigned to you.” His hand found hers and he rested his large hands over her slender ones. She felt fragile next to him, but also safe. Helen must trust Achilles very much, even though he was quite a bit older than her.  
“Achilles, please don’t blame yourself that I was taken. You were the one who brought me back.”  
“It is still my greatest failing,” Achilles removed his hand and clenched it into a fist while avoiding her gaze. “Bringing you back after you already endured such trauma is unforgiveable. I do not deserve to be alive.” He bit his lip, still gazing at Mount Parnon, and this time she gently wrapped her hand around his, to unclench his fist. 

“Sparta would not be safe without you, its greatest warrior.” She tried her best to reassure him. 

“And life in Sparta would not be beautiful without you.” He held her hand gently to his chest.  
“I promise-whatever the king’s solution to the prophecy, I will not leave your side or fail to protect you-ever again. “  
Helen believed him. She wanted to, even though she knew that he could only promise to do his best. Cassandra’s words chilled her, sending an icy shiver down her neck even with the warmth of the sun’s rays and Achille’s hand. 

“Look, even the sun is jealous of me, “Achilles joked. “He might be the light of your eyes, but he cannot hold your hand as I do, or compare to the warmth of your smile. Trust me Helen, you will smile again. And not the brave half smile I see now. You will be genuinely happy.” 

  
Chatper 2: The King’s Quest 

“Helen, please sit down.” It was unusual to be asked to be seated in her father the king’s presence, but Helen obeyed. The king chose his next words methodically and deliberately, as though he had already decided what to say, but was still not quite certain it was an agreeable solution.  
“I have given much thought to the troubling prophecy that your aunt Cassandra has given. Seeing as the trouble that has already been brought to Sparta through no fault of your own, dear girl, it seems I cannot possibly choose a suitable husband for you.”  
Helen did not wish to marry anyone at all. 

“I too have thought of a solution father,” she interjected, causing the king to raise one brow angrily at her impudence. “Could I not become a priestess as Aunt Cassandra? Then I would belong to the temple, remain celibate, and no one could cause a war for the sake of my beauty………”  
The King’s anger dissipated like clouds scattered after a spring storm. He turned slowly. “I wish it was possible, my dear girl, but the Peloponnesian League is not what it once was and the Delian Alliance is standing strong. The young King of Athens has replaced his father and will likely attempt to reclaim you, unless I offer your hand to a suitable ally to strengthen Sparta’s position.”  
Helen instantly understood. Sparta’s warriors might be the best trained, the best equipped, but they were few in number and in order to command the respect of the other city states in their league, they had to maintain alliances by marriage. She was the only daughter.  
“How will you keep them for fighting amongst themselves for my hand?” She answered tenuously.  
“I was getting around to that before you interrupted, my dear girl.” The king paced toward her and then away again. “A vicious brute of a beast has been found in our borders…….. A minotaur!” The king turned to Helen with an uncanny glint in his eyes. “I have proposed that the man who slays the beast will have your hand in marriage, and become the next King of Sparta.”  
“What??” Helen arose, sending a silver platter of fruit clattering to the ground, apples, pears, and grapes rolling along the marble tile and across the mosaics.  
How could her father offer the Kingdom to a man not his heir? Her youngest brother still lived…….  
“It’s because you blame me……” She instantly thought of her elder brother, and his death at the hands of the King of Athens. 

“No one blames you, dear girl.” The King held her shaking hands tenderly, but his expression remained stern. “it is what is best for our city, and for your brother. He is not ready to be King; he is so young and inexperienced, our rivals would seize at the opportunity……..And,” he added hoarsely. “I know that my time will not be long.”

“Did Cassandra also divine this?” Helen could not hide the biting grating bitterness beneath her words.  
“No.” The king released her hand abruptly. “An old man knows when his time is near. He can feel it in his bones, and has no need of a sorceress or priestess to provide a special revelation. I would have passed the kingdom to my eldest son but now…….” 

There was no further need for explanation.  
“I will do as my father wishes.” Helen bowed and took her leave, the old king glanced over his shoulder and sighed.  
Poor Helen. Poor beautiful Helen. He might never have been her real father but he had certainly tried to be there for her, for to him, she had always been his. If the King really doubted that Zeus had seized his Queen, he never questioned her honor publicly. And he always treated Helen as an honor. But now he was forced to offer her as a prize, a prize to any man who could vanquish the minotaur. And certainly, this fair contest would absolve the need for any further conflict, as who could argue with a conquest fairly won?  
  
Chapter 3: The Man and the Beast 

“Achilles, you simply must let me come with you!” Helen wasn’t taking no for an answer. This was so much more assertive than her usual timid, reserved nature!  
She could not tell him that she had already lived as a Queen, survived a revolution, won over a people against her as Marie; or that she had negotiated with the Serpent Queen and fought against a sorcerer as Gina, or survived the Mafia as Colvin……..let’s not even mention Signy trying to stab Audwin……

“I am brave enough for a hunt! How can you say the hunt is not suited for women when Artemis is the patron of the Hunt!” She grew more indignant and Achilles knew that she would not simmer down, so he tried to shush her to at least prevent anyone else from overhearing.  
“If I win, you won’t have to worry any more about Cassandra’s prophecy!” Achilles was genuinely excited about the prospect of ‘saving her’ to be his wife. While she appreciated the sentiment that he wanted to protect her, and she knew he had no interest in governmental affairs or power, she was sure she would have a full time job running his affairs of state as queen whilst he found new foes to pummel with his fists and she truly doubted the Achilles would be the King to keep them out of a war. Far more likely that he would start a half dozen brush fires at once!  
Furthermore, she was growing indignant and impatient about men fighting over her, even well intentioned. She had endured enough of Ferdinand, Audwin, and Aldous to last three lifetimes! Say nothing of Honore and the rest…….  
“What if I win?” She asked, stringing her bow with the silver string her mother said came from Artemis’ own bow. Cassandra had given her the bow when she was young, and told her that it had come from the Amazons, a tribe of women who lived nomadically and more notably, who were trained to fight without the protection of a male led army. Spartan women could own property, which was more than could be said for women unfortunate enough to be born in Athens, but still, most simply managed the household estates whilst their Spartan husbands served in the king’s battalion. The Amazons were their own battalion.  
“I see that there will be no dissuading you!” Achilles wrapped his arm around her shoulder and turned her about. “If you must come, then surely you realize you will need a disguise! You shall be my armor bearer.”  
“I can hardly lift it!” She stammered.  
“Nonsense, I can lift it easily. How else could I walk about. Your job will be to hand me arrows and make sure every tip is sharpened. Keep the quiver full, and keep the knives all sharp and at the ready.”  
“I can do that,” she agreed.  
And the pair of them prepared to set off. 

Helen was excited to be leaving the palace for some place other than the temple. It had been a long time since she had even been to the market. She had been kept heavily guarded the last four years since the incident with the King of Athens. He had found her in the marketplace that day that his delegates had arrived, she was admiring the horses being auctioned to the charioteers when he had offered her a try at handling the reins in his own chariot.  
Foolish, Helen! She chided herself, although she hadn’t been there at the time, and after all, Helen had only been a naïve twelve year old girl…….

She stayed behind Achilles and listened with the rest of the competitors as the King made his decree.  
“Last night, the minotaur was found attempting to abduct a villager’s wife! While her husband attempted to save her, their lodging was set ablaze in the ensuing conflict, and the unfortunate man lost his wife in the fire.  
The beast does not fear flames, nor arrows, and he can shatter bronze beams and great wooden poles with his brute strength! He is said to be unable to swim, and has avoided the river Erastus! He is likely lurking in the woods near mount Parnon, but will undoubtably threaten our villages and hinterland again! You will have to use both cunning and strength to defeat him! And as a reward for such courage, resourcefulness, and bravery and in our deepest thanks for ridding our land of such a scourge-to the man who vanquishes the minotaur-I shall award my daughter Helen, and the Kingdom of Sparta!”  
Most of the men gasped, as many of non- royal lineage were present and eager only for sport and the chance to rid the countryside of the minotaur. A few foreigners from Mycenae were present, and looking for sport, but now-at the news that they had a chance to obtain a kingship, their interest grew all the more keen.  
Helen didn’t like the gleam in their captain’s eye. “Who are those Mycenaen men?”  
“Hmm? How do you mean? They’re mycenaen……” Achilles answered disinterestedly. Still listening to the King’s advice for capturing the minotaur.  
“No, that one there, their leader…..who is he?” Helen jabbed at Achilles and pointed.  
“Hmmph. That is Menelaus.” Achilles couldn’t hide his gravelly voice. “Since he’s not next in line for his own kingdom, he’s always on the lookout for another opportunity……How do you fancy him?”  
“I don’t,” Helen answered with loathing. He appeared greedy, shifty, and full of himself. If she had to be someone’s wife, she definitely would not be his.  
“Well, it’s too bad for him that this is one opportunity he will have to miss……”Achilles smiled. “I won’t give him a chance to steal my Helen.”  
Helen was no longer listening. She was not anyone’s Helen. She was not even sure of who she was herself anymore. But she did know one thing-prophecy be damned! She was going to write the ending to this story, and not let anyone else write it for her!

It wasn’t hard to slip away from Achilles and the others. They were so busy creating traps and contraptions, all their noise was likely scaring the minotaur.  
Unlike the men, she didn’t believe that the minotaur wanted a conflict nor would be foolish enough to seek one. After all, he was alone, and outnumbered, and any creature with a basic survival instinct would have the intuition to lie low.  
“If I was the minotaur, where would I go?” She remembered hearing something before about the minotaur being held in an underground labyrinth. What environment would make him feel safest? Helen’s eyes lit at the thought! There was a string of caves at the base of Mount Parnon, behind the temple. They used it as an acropolis for the dead, but many of the caves had been purchased and not yet filled. Setting empty, they would make the perfect hiding place and familiar refuge for the minotaur. 

Helen went off to find him, not half so scared to be with the beast as to be with these rowdy and uncouth men. Even with Achilles protecting her, she felt ill at ease. She knew the only way to help herself was to take charge of her own destiny, which Achilles would never let her do, in the interest of her own safety of course! 

Even though the sun was well across the horizon, it was dark at the base of Mount Parnon. Helen scraped her way across the rocks. She needed a way to mark the caves that she had searched and also to ensure that she didn’t get lost within the maze-like network. She tied a rope around her feet and anchored it at the doorway. The rope was supposed to make a net for catching the minotaur but she put it to better use. She used a dark piece of graphite to mark the passages she had already checked. The air hung heavy with the smoke of her torch, and the smell was stifling, but Helen pressed on.  
After what seemed an eternity, she heard a sound. A faint rustling a trickling stream up ahead. All of a sudden she tripped as the rope tied to her foot was cut. She fell and slid headlong down an embankment into an underground stream and her torch was doused.  
An eerie luminance rose from the algae on the walls and even if her nose didn’t tell her from the smell or her ears did not hear the ragged chuffing, there-in the half-light, she could just make out the pair of horns! The minotaur had found her!  
What did the minotaur want with women anyway? Did he want to eat them?  
Helen grappled for her bow and her knife in the darkness, she found the sheath of her knife, or rather one of Achilles’ knives, in the stream bed but as she reached for it and drew it, the minotaur caught her by the wrist and to her surprise bellowed something half way intelligible……

“MOOOO!!! Woman!!!!!” 

“You can talk?” She gasped and dropped the knife.  
The minotaur turned anxiously and shushed her, there were voices near the cavern. He released her wrist and motioned her to follow deeper into the cavernous recess. 

Well, he certainly didn’t seem threatening. Helen half pitied him, all these men hunting him simply because he looked monstrous. She doubted now that he ever intended to harm or to eat that other village man’s wife. What had this beast done to be locked away all his life in labyrinths and dungeons? To hide as a fugitive in caves, with no creature like him for companionship?  
Without a second thought, Helen followed him.  
They waited at the end of a tunnel until the lights and torches went past them.  
“Aggh, we’ve already been down this way, someone dropped their rope and their knife!”  
“If the creature was here, you’re warning it away with all your incessant yammering”  
The group of men finally passed by them and dispersed down another corridor.  
“Moo! Woman!” The minotaur was struggling to say something. Unable to articulate what he wished, in frustration he grabbed a stone. Helen ducked and covered her face in fear in case he decided to bash her face with it, but instead, he very articulately began to write on the bioluminescent green film covering the walls.  
Helen was shocked beyond speechless.  
She raised her hand to trace the word etched into the mossy stone. CURSED. He was cursed.  
“Who are you?” She asked.  
The minotaur placed one furry hand over her mouth and shushed her again, admonishing her not to scream. He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder and carried her out of the caves. They emerged on the far side of the mountain. How he had sure footedly carried her through the darkness without getting lost was a miracle in itself, but Helen was still astonished at what she had seen. Or had she only imagined it? 

“Are you really cursed?” She asked him again, “Who are you?”  
The bull-man picked up a stick and drew in the sand.  
“Paris.” He wrote.  
“Paris?” Helen read the name aloud. “Where are you from?”  
But the creature was already writing her answer beneath his name, before she even finished voicing her question.  
Paris of Troy.  
  
Suddenly a cloud of dust swelled up and light swirled around them in a blinding flash. Helen was knocked to the ground by a forceful blast of wind and the ground itself seemed to be rippling with a shock wave beneath her feet.  
Helen coughed as she struggled to rise , and she gasped partly for air and partly in shock as she saw no longer the minotaur, but a man standing before her. 

Stay tuned for Part II and thanks for reading! This is my first fan fic I've ever posted so constructive criticism is welcome. Go easy on me!


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Helen of Sparta became Helen of Troy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I kind of left off last time in the middle of a chapter. This picks up right where we left off, and please forgive any typos as this is done late at night when my brain won't let me sleep. I hope it can be enjoyable for some. The Greek "gods" will get involved eventually, but not just yet!

Paris stood trembling and looking at his hands. He heard a slight cough, and extended his wonderfully human hand to the young woman most peculiarly dressed as an armor bearer.   
He pulled her arm a little more forcefully than he had intended, and her eyes looked so startled as she rose to her feet and gazed up at his face.   
“Please do not tell me that you are more stricken with terror by my human form,” Paris managed.   
His voice! It was the first time he had heard his own voice in nearly eight years. He was as startled by everything that had happened as she was.   
“H-how?” She stammered.   
“You must have lifted my curse!” Paris stated incredulously.   
“But I did not do a thing!” she protested.   
“You must have done something,” Paris replied thoughtfully. “My brothers who cursed me tossed me into a labyrinth and made me out to be a monster. They said that only if someone could see me as other than a monster would I ever be freed….” He paused despondent.   
“You don’t know how implausible that seemed! For years they kept me confined to darkness and threw people into the labyrinth for their punishment, amusement, torture……I escaped and came here, only to find myself hunted again. Any attempt at communication was usually misunderstood and didn’t result well……”   
“The death of the woman in the village……..” she answered.   
Paris clenched his jaw and made a fist. His breath caught as though he had been stabbed between the ribs.   
“I never intended her any harm. The mob set fire to her house when they panicked at merely the sight of me!   
You must be someone profoundly different to even approach me the way you did. What is your name?” 

Helen didn’t know how to answer. She was still reeling at the thought that the man’s own brothers could do this to him. Besides-she was still in ‘disguise.’ And she could hear the hunting party approaching.   
“Feign ignorance,” Helen admonished Paris. The clattering party of huntsmen was upon them now. Luckily, Achilles found her first. He drew his sword and brandished it with one brow raised, turned slightly toward Helen, as if to ask ‘who is this?’   
She said not a word, but lightly placed her hand on his over the hilt. He moved to conceal her from view of the rest of the hunting party.   
“Nothing over here!” He motioned his head to the opposite direction. “We must have taken a wrong turn.”  
The Mycenean men regarded them with suspicion. “The tracks just end here……” one of them growled.   
Achilles almost laughed. Paris remained frozen in fear.   
“Well-I don’t see any monsters here, do you? So clearly the beast must’ve doubled back or else the trail we are on is old!” 

“They already killed the beast and don’t want us to know……..” One man with gruel in his beard approached Achilles with dagger drawn. 

Achilles grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off his toes, “I said there’s nothing here!” His nose inches from that man’s revolting beard, he dropped him, and the man’s dagger clattered to the ground as he reached to alleviate his throat from the after math of Achilles’ grip.   
Whether the men suspected anything of her or Paris, no one else dared voice any further objections.   
“C’mon, I have an idea.” Menelaus motioned and his men, including gruel-beard followed. 

Paris waited until they were out of sight before softly murmuring, “Thank you.”   
He looked lost. He wore only a very tattered cloth around his waist and he was clearly clueless as to where he might go next.   
“Achilles…….This man was wounded by thugs and robbers. Can you take him back to the palace? I should be returning before my absence is noted…..” Helen felt a little guilty to lie this way to Achilles but the truth was just too unbelievable.   
“Hmmph. As you wish,” Achilles sheathed his sword. Paris fumbled as though in disbelief.  
Had she said to take him to the palace? His unease and his curiosity grew. He felt he really had no choice. Destiny had led him to her. He followed without a word. 

  
Chapter 4: The Banquet

Helen sat stiffly in the banquet hall. She was disinterested in the flat bread and hummus, the olives, the game, the wine. 

She could not believe her misfortune……but yet again, she should have predicted this. Menelaus was a liar and a cheat.   
Having been unable to find the minotaur, he had cut off the head of some poor bull, and displayed it grotesquely as a trophy. And to her horror, her father had proclaimed him the winner.   
She realized that it was always likely to go this way- Cassandra predicted a great Mycenean alliance, followed by an era in which the Macedonian would rule the known world…… All the city states were being swallowed up one by one.   
That cold shiver swept again down her spine. She had no more desire to spend time with men such as him. She had seen enough of his type in Gotham. And Helen had seen enough from the King of Athens.   
She felt as panicked as a deer pursued by hounds. She had to escape. It was plainly evident that her father was not able to protect her.   
She was forced to be paraded in front of the banquet hall for the announcement and shoved into the arms of the brute. “As fair as the goddess Aphrodite!” He belched in her face as he laughed raucously. “Looks a bit as fair as that Spartan armor bearer with Achilles earlier!”   
Achilles reached for his sword, but Helen shook her head. “You blasphemy with your flattery, sir. Would you have Aphrodite to smite me in jealousy over your words?”   
At this he laughed all the louder. “I have yet to see a goddess smite anyone! And yet to see a Spartan who can properly wield the spear! Your famed warriors of old are gone, and that is why they train the women! Your boys in battle are no better than weak little girls, and your soldiers so few in number, you would have no choice but to send your women into battle.”  
Helen was half tempted to challenge him to a duel, but she restrained herself. She remembered the prophecy.   
“Do not tempt fate,” She replied coyly while reaching for her father’s hand. He for now, was able to remove her, as the marriage had only just been announced.   
“She does not belong to you yet, Menelaus-“The old King warned.   
“AW! But you have pledged her to me?” he almost bellowed. She couldn’t tell if he was irate with laughter or belligerent with rage, she decided upon drunk and that he was likely someplace in between sport and unrestrained violence, after all violence was sport to him.   
Achilles did not hesitate, he walked behind Helen, taking hold of her arm, he half pushed her as he rushed her out of the banquet hall.   
“This is nothing that you need to see.”  
“What are they going to do?” Helen was afraid to ask.   
“They are going to have a few ‘champions’ fight to the death for sport later tonight.”   
Helen’s stomach reeled. She was glad she had hardly touched her food as she felt she might heave.   
She sat down forlorn upon the bench-like furniture that served as her bed.   
Achilles held her hand over her shoulder for a moment. “I’ll be standing just beyond the curtain to your quarters. If anyone tries anything-I’ll be here. You should rest.”   
“Thank you, Achilles.” Helen felt comforted that he would be standing guard. Even if one of the drunken guests ventured down her hallway tonight, they would never make it through that thin sheer curtain to torment her.   
She could rest with Achilles here. But her mind would not let her rest.   
She thought she heard a faint rustling from the balcony. How much time had passed?   
“Achilles?” She whispered but there wasn’t any answer. She rose slowly and deliberately to investigate.   
A lithe figure vaulted over the terrace and entered her room not from the hall, but from outside.   
She suppressed a cry of fright as she recognized him in the moonlight. “Paris?”   
“Shh!” He came closer but drew his shoulders in a way that made him look smaller, to reassure her that he intended no harm.   
“I only mean to talk with you…..”   
“What is it you want?” Helen was just as curious about him as he must be about her.   
“I owe you my life, whatever life that may turn out to be…..” Paris hesitated. “I just cannot imagine that you would want to go with ……with someone like that…..” He motioned toward the banquet hall. So he had been there, and he had seen Menelaus.   
“You are right, I do not wish it, but I fear I have no choice. Bloodshed and curse of war will follow if I do not protect Sparta.”  
“Helen-who’s in there?” Achilles was alert now. He was moving quickly towards them. She did not hear the sound of him drawing the blade, perhaps it had always been drawn….she caught the sheen of metal glinting from the darkness and she placed herself swiftly between Achilles and Paris. 

“No-no!” She cried softly. Achilles instantly desisted.   
“Helen, what is this stranger doing in your room? Did you summon him here?”   
“Paris came to offer me his assistance in fulfillment of a debt.” Helen’s words were enough that Achilles lowered his sword though he still regarded Paris suspiciously.   
“What can you offer the Princess?” Achilles was now prepared to bargain on her behalf.   
“I have learned that my elder brothers who” he paused and chose his next words with deliberate caution. “My elder brothers who exiled me are dead. My youngest cousin Hector is now King, a man who is just and never did me any harm. I offer you asylum in Troy. As Troy is not a Greek state, your father will be absolved of any bond or oath which pledged you to another and no harm or war will come to Sparta.” 

“This is a trick, do not listen to him, Princess Helen! He is no royal and even if he were, what makes him so sure he will be welcome again in Troy? What makes you so certain that they won’t still demand Helen’s release? Whether she was kidnapped or left willingly makes little difference to Menelaus.” 

“Menelaus is not king of Sparta unless he marries Helen, and his elder brother Agamemnon will not easily go to war with Troy……situated between the Aegean and the Black Sea, Troy is strategically positioned and has a mighty navy as well as a superior force of charioteers and hoplites.”

“And what will you expect of me once we are there?” Helen asked.   
“I will expect nothing of you, my lady. I am certain that I will re-enter my cousins’ service. If my mother yet lives, or if Hector has taken a queen, I am certain that you could find a place at their side as a lady in waiting, a companion of sorts. You would be treated indefinitely as our guest and not as a common servant.”   
Helen’s face flushed and her heart beat wildly with hope. Paris was the only man offering her a choice. No matter how slim a chance it might be, Helen trusted him. She was willing to take that chance.   
But Achilles? If he ‘failed’ to protect her from abduction or if he let her leave with the stranger willingly, what would her father do to him?  
Achilles already knew what she was thinking. “You should go with him, your highness. Leave now, this may be your only chance. Take the Arabian stallion. I have him tethered in the yard near the well.”  
“Achilles, but you-”  
“Helen,” Achilles pushed her into Paris’ arms. “If you go with Menelaus I cannot protect you. I am willing to die for you in battle, Helen. As long as I live, I live for you. I am able to face your father. Go. Now.”   
And with that, Achilles left to monitor the banquet hall and create a diversion if the situation required. Helen felt like her feet were not her own. She grabbed a cloak from a small hook on the wall and left ‘her’ room without a word, following Paris out into the night. 

Once they were underway, she could breathe easier. She rode behind Paris, her arms wrapped around his waist. He kept one hand in the horse’s mane, and the other hand wrapped around hers, as though afraid she might fall asleep and slip off the horse.   
They maintained a quick pace through the cool of the night, but toward dawn, he left the low land and made his way to the rocks.   
“The sand will hide our tracks quickly enough, and from a higher vantage point we can maintain a look out.”   
“Do you have any weapon?” Helen was beginning to question the man’s judgment just a little if he had left in such haste without one.   
“Believe it or not, I do not have any need of one.”   
Helen was not sure if this was empty boasting or if she should believe him. A man who had lived so long in a labyrinth as a minotaur might indeed know enough about violence with one’s hands that he had no need of a weapon……unless of course, he referred to his mind. He had outwitted their pursuers earlier, but only because of blind luck by Helen’s reckoning.   
They found a rocky overhang to shield them from the sun. Paris did have the sense to bring several canteens of water, and he had enough for the horse.   
“How do you know where you are going?” She asked forlorn with weariness, the excitement of the journey was dissipating into sheer exhaustion.   
“I told you that Troy had a navy. All of us are schooled extensively in astronomy and navigation. Troy is also a hub for merchants from the far east. Navigation is our specialty.”   
Helen had no choice but to believe him and trust him. He was obviously a man of letters as he had written in the sand, and she had to believe that his transformation was nothing other than a genuine miracle.   
Soon, the sun would rise with a sweltering heat and the dry wind would beat upon their rocky outcropping mercilessly. But now, she shivered a little through her cloak. Paris pulled her closer, and then hesitated.   
“Please, do not be afraid of me.” Paris looked at her pleadingly. “I had no hope of life before you, and now my only mission is to see to your safety. I know it will take time before you can trust me or hold me in esteem as you did your guardian Achilles, but I will do my utmost to prove myself to you.”  
Paris looked at her with a sort of worshipful adoration that she felt she did not deserve. She worried for Achilles, and now she felt a sliver of worry for Paris. His compassion for her could be his undoing.   
“What if the curse follows me?”   
“That I do not fear, my lady. You have already saved me from one curse. I do not think you could ever be anything other than a blessing.”   
“I trust you, Paris.” Helen leaned her head on his shoulder with a sight of relief. He relaxed a little too. She fell asleep long before he did. He dutifully kept watch, but often his gaze wandered from the horizon from whence they had come, and he found himself studying the intricate wavy tresses that spilled over her face and concealed her delicate eyelashes. He listened to the sound of her breathing and she was close enough he could feel her heart beating.   
Paris blinked sleepily and muttered softly to himself. “I must be blessed by whatever gods may be. They have seen my plight and how I was wronged by my brothers. I forgive them now for whatever injustice they did to me, for all those years, tortured, alone in the dark…..they were never for nothing if they led me to her…..”


	3. Siege of Troy

The Siege of Troy

Six years later

Helen stood above the walls of her city and looked out at the encampment of Greeks lined against their walls. No longer a princess of Sparta, she was sister in law to the Queen and King of Troy.  
The Spartans and their Mycenean allies torches encircled and blockaded the city for so long that the soldiers on both sides had taken to trading, gambling, even forging friendships because the skirmishes had become so stagnated. King Hector could not tolerate such and any soldiers caught so doing, were to be brought to the square and executed.  
Helen, however, had ordered one of these meetings. “Here is the information you requested, Ma’m.” The soldier pressed a scroll into her hand and avoided her eyes as he walked past her. He pursed his lips in apprehension; for should his action be discovered, even having been directed by her, he did not doubt that the King would make good his oath. He had never hesitated to execute deserters and traitors.  
Helen hurried back to her quarters and sent out her servants. She paced anxiously back and forth as she unrolled the scroll to read Achilles familiar penmanship. He wrote surprisingly daintily for someone so keen to fight, but then again, Achilles now was much more reserved and less anxious for conflict.  
He didn’t think they should be here. Not any of them. And they had grossly underestimated Menelaus. Once Helen left the capital, it wasn’t long before her father was found mysteriously dead. Achilles was able to confirm that Menelaus had poisoned him, but Menelaus already had support as King of Sparta. He was able to convince his brother Agamemnon that Troy controlled a strategic water way and was a port worth seizing for their fledgling empire.  
But now, Achilles brought word of his efforts to arrange a truce. He suspected that Menelaus would play along, but use the opportunity as ruse to catch the Trojan Army off guard……they were planning something, building something unlike a battering ram or catapult, but tall enough to be used as a siege tower.  
The Trojan Horse!  
Helen looked down as small feet pattered into the room. Her son. Her dear child looked up at her with wide and innocent eyes, always anxiously searching hers. The siege was all he knew his entire life. She and Paris genuinely loved one another. Why couldn’t King Agamemnon and his obnoxious brother leave them alone?  
Helen scooped up her child and helped him tighten the strap on his sandal.  
“What is it Mommy? Are they going to come for us?” He had been mostly interested in the siege encampment and made a game of it a few times, but now the reality of their situation was beginning to affect the young boy’s sleep and entering into his imagination as nightmares.  
“They have been unable to breach these walls in all these years, and we still have plenty of food to eat. We have no need to fear them. They will grow tired and leave.” It pained her to lie to him with a smile, but how could she tell him the likely truth? It would not change the outcome. She would keep him close, and ready to flee the moment the walls were breached. Paris had already made arrangements for such a scenario.  
Her son ran along to play with King Hector’s boys, and she resumed unrolling the scroll. She paused. Cassandra was in the encampment. Vising King Menelaus? She was here on a matter of great importance and requested entry into the Trojan temple………

Helen felt conflicted. Cassandra was her aunt, her blood. She had always felt more like a second mother or an older sister to Helen. But now, she questioned her implicit trust. What would Cassandra want here? Had she come to help her, or to be their undoing? Perhaps she had a message or a way to end this conflict.  
Helen had to cling to that hope. She had to take that chance. She felt just as she had when she clung to Paris leaving Sparta. Except then, she had placed her faith in a stranger who then became a close friend and now her lover as dear to her as her own soul. Cassandra on the other hand, what had Cassandra done since her parents’ dethronement? She seemed to have maintained her favor with the new King, but then so too had Achilles and yet she never questioned his unerring devotion to her even now.  
Cassandra had foretold the initial prophesy and so far all she said had come to pass. Helen felt a chill wondering if Cassandra brought a new revelation.  
Before she could answer, there was a cry at the gates.  
There had been another skirmish upon the wall when King Hector came to talk with the truce bearer…..Helen knew him. Patroclus was Achilles’ close friend. Both he and Achilles genuinely hoped for peace even if they suspected that King Menelaus might only be using them to try to betray the Trojans, and so they passed along any information they had to Helen’s informants.  
But now an arrow from the Trojan side, from just behind King Hector struck Patroclus just above his breastplate.  
“Who fired that arrow?” Hector roared enraged, but it was too late. Both sides took to squabbling once more.  
And to her horror, as Helen watched, she saw King Hector be pushed or pulled from the balcony by men clawing at him from ramparts breached by ladders. Why had he gone so close?!  
Paris rushed to save his cousin but fell just short and risked falling headlong into the vicious onslaught.  
“Get the boys to the temple! Go! Now!” Paris cried.  
Uncertain if she would ever see her beloved again, Helen raced toward her son and nephews and scooped up her boy, taking her youngest nephew by the hand. The eldest son of Hector sought to charge out to fight, but Helen grappled him. The boy wrestled free and Helen couldn’t hold him. She called for help but no servants responded as the young boy charged after Paris and his father.  
Helen couldn’t turn back. She couldn’t delay. She dragged the youngest children away from the fighting and into the temple.  
With Patroclus gone, could she really still count on Achilles? Patroclus was his oldest friend and like a brother to him……Had Hector ordered Patroclus killed? What if the men that Hector had executed for fraternizing with the enemy had been men under his command? In the end, would it have even mattered?  
Hector was brought before Achilles, and Achilles killed him that day. Helen did not know if it was to appease Menelaus and that he had no choice, or if it were in vengeance for his friend.  
But the next morning, Achilles-her dear friend Achilles dragged Hector’s body to the gate and demanded that Paris come out to meet him and that Helen receive the priestess Cassandra. They would return his body for burial if they agreed to terms.  
Paris was now King of Troy.


	4. Eris: Goddess of Chaos

Eris: Goddess of Chaos

The moment Helen stepped into the temple, she felt something was wrong. It wasn’t just that Hector’s body was laid beneath the altar, looking pale in the wan light.  
Cassandra was already present.  
Her eyes, her movements were all unnatural……..  
She brushed right past Helen and seized the silver chalice that sat above the altar……..  
“Cassandra-what are you doing? Why?” Helen gripped her young son’s hand and pulled him behind her.  
Her guards ran forward to seize the priestess, but it was too late.  
Cassandra consumed a mixture of wine and a pinch of powder from within a vial which hung around her neck. After she swallowed, she closed her eyes in satisfaction.  
When she opened her eyes, they glared like cat’s eyes from the darkness . Her flame red hair adopted a strange aura which gleamed brighter than the torches' glow within the dimly lit temple chamber.  
She shattered a small glass orb upon the floor and a smokey vapor wafted into the air. The guards coughed and collapsed.  
“Cassandra-why?” Helen asked almost pleadingly once again.  
“Do you not yet understand? The war, Menelaus, you and Paris, the prophecy….all have been my tools, to bring me this.” She raised the silver chalice as if toasting herself.  
Helen’s eyes stung in the smoke. She struggled to stay awake. She choked as she strained and heaved with each breath.  
“You betrayed us all! You were family!” Helen was enraged as she sank to her knees.  
“I was as family?” Cassandra smirked snidely.  
“I was sold to the temple, as an offering when I was twelve. I would never enjoy the luxuries that my sister did in the palace as the Queen….”  
She did this for jealousy? What was the power of the chalice that Cassandra sought?  
“But I have procured something of greater value! No longer will I be as mortal men and women, pawns and tokens for the gods’ amusement…..Did you never ask how the Trojans obtained this article? It was forged from the same metal as the hourglass of Chronos, this is the original tool for the ascension of the gods. All were once mortal as you and I, and yet they lord it over us…..Those who drink from this glass obtain immortality and become a god themselves!”  
Helen’s world swirled around her; she grappled at the edge of consciousness. Faces and memories flashed before her as she reeled in rage, shock, and confusion all at once.  
She knew that the Trojans kept this relic as a remembrance to the War of the Titans, when the Elder gods were defeated by their children. It was forbidden to touch the chalice and now she understood why.  
“Why Zeus allowed such a treasure to remain in mortal hands….is beyond me, but perhaps he is not omnipotent since he is not worshipped in Troy, he has no vision in this city.”  
Cassandra strode over to Helen and lifted her chin. “But you have been my vision, for you are my blood.” Helen twisted her chin away.  
“You wish to be worshipped as a goddess? Do the bodies and lives of these men mean nothing to you?” Helen twisted as Cassandra grappled her by the nape of her garment, their faces were now inches apart.  
“I am Eris, Goddess of Chaos, I gain strength through conflict and bloodshed-“ was this even the Cassandra she had known? Had she ever really cared for them?  
Cassandra shoved her to the floor and Helen’s world went black.  
When she awoke, she was in her old room: not in Troy, but in Sparta. Menelaus was pacing back and forth, as though he too were confused.  
“What happened to Paris? Where is my son?” Helen’s voice quavered at a fever pitch. She remembered pushing her son behind her as she stepped forward to confront Cassandra. If the smoke made adults sleep, what did it do to children?  
Menelaus gloated a little as he recounted the happenings to Helen. But yet she sensed that he was still dissatisfied.  
When Cassandra released the gas, the Myceneans spilled into the city.  
The Trojans had attacked the “Horse” construct thinking it was a siege ramp of some kind, but it was a ruse to draw attention away from the temple.  
Cassandra had led them right to the heart of the city.  
And Paris was King of Troy for less than a day…..but her son, he was just a boy!  
“What happens to the boy, depends on you and your willingness to cooperate,” Menelaus rasped at Helen. She collapsed on the chaise sobbing.  
Achilles stood back on the balcony, just beyond reach.  
Had he been a part of this?  
“My son-my son- and Paris!” She sobbed.  
“Bring her before me when she is useful to me,” Menelaus huffed, as he left Helen to Achilles. 

Achilles waited until Menelaus was beyond earshot. He leaned in close to Helen. “I can help you reach Paris…..”  
“How?” Helen raised her head confused. “Where is he?”  
“Go to the temple…..” Achilles directed her.  
“What? Won’t Cassandra be there?” Helen queried incredulously. How dumb did Achilles think she was?  
“Eris is no longer in the mortal realm, and neither is Paris. If we are going to rescue your loved ones and defeat Eris we must go to Hades.”  
Was he mad? Helen stopped crying and her face reddened with anger, but Achilles did not appear to be mocking her even as he told her flatly that Paris was in Hades. She didn’t want to think about what sort of death he suffered before Menelaus.  
“And you have a way to summon Charon?” What was he suggesting? That they drink poison?  
Helen raised her brow in disbelief. Did not Charon the ferryman only come for the dead?  
“Don’t misunderstand me….” Achilles pressed a bracelet set with a precious stone into her hands. Helen slid it over her wrist and rolled her arm back and forth looking at it quizzically.  
“When you step into the sacred circle in the temple, you must utter this chant and this talisman, the ‘ferryman’s judgment’, will transport you to the borders of the river Styx. But wait in the temple first for a man named Orpheus…..he has a gift by which he can convince anyone to help him, by playing his music. Even Charon will be persuaded to take you to Paris and Orpheus’ lost love Eurydice. Let us hope his music can persuade Hades and Persephone to return them to the land of the living…..”  
“What makes you think they would help us?” Helen wasn’t convinced that any song could be moving enough to persuade the King and Queen of the Underworld. And Charon? Could he even bring someone still living across the Styx?  
“Cassandra has not told you the whole prophecy……” Achilles explained.  
“Zeus was once in love with my mother, and as you know nymphs are immortal as the gods. Yet, she was given to a mortal man because it was prophesied that a child-presumably her child, would be greater than the father. Zeus has always been afraid that one of his children would overthrow him, just as he over threw his father, the Titan Chronos and locked him in Tartarus for eternity.  
If Zeus was not my father, and my mother was given to a mortal, then it didn’t mean much for me to exceed my father’s achievements.” Achilles continued.  
“What of the rest of the prophecy?” Helen asked bewildered.  
“Zeus was mistaken. The original prophecy did not say ‘son,’ or name my mother specifically. It only said that a child of Zeus would succeed in leading mortals to victory over the gods….”  
Helen was beginning to understand.  
“He assumed it was your mother, because she was his lover previously……..but it was my mother? You’re saying that it is my role to overthrow the gods?” Helen stammered, the words tumbling forth as terror flashed through her racing mind.  
Helen’s eyes were wide and startled. Her pulse quickened at the thought that there was a way to save Paris, but she never dreamed of defying the gods.  
“It could be; you are the daughter of Zeus…..” was all Achilles said. “Now hurry…..take an offering to the temple, and Orpheus will meet you there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suspected Cassandra as being Eris on my first playthrough because Achilles doesn't trust her and legend tells that Eris prompted the war. The idea of beings siphoning off of human conflict came to me through that legend, but ironically fits very well with the sequel story for Romy and Julius. My Laurence and Romy Fanfic Reckless is meant to logically follow Prophecy and Fate, and the two are mentally connected for me even though I am writing them parallel to one another. However, the player or reader should only be familiar with the base game to make sense of most of the fanfic. It is not necessary to read both fanfics for the reader to understand one apart from the other. However, the reader is presumed to have read all stories within the DUTP game as numerous references are thrown in. If anyone is still reading you have my thanks and appreciation, and I apologize if the writing seems poorer or more rushed this time. I fear that I will forget parts of the story if I don't finish compiling both fanfics soon.


End file.
